Muggle Junk
by MermaidGirl34
Summary: Mr. Weasley gets Ron to help him stash away all his Muggle junk before Molly sees it all. Involves rubber ducks, wizard swears, and the origin of Ron's Chudley Cannon bedspread. One-shot Can be considered a Crack-fic...


**(A/N: For the Princess Bride Quote Challenge on the HPFC. Wizard swears courtesy of Potter Puppet Pals. Enjoy!) **

_**The **__**Salem witch trials**__** were a series of hearings and prosecutions of people accused of witchcraft in colonial Massachusetts, between February 1692 and May 1693. Despite being generally known as the Salem witch trials, the preliminary hearings in 1692 were conducted in a variety of towns across the province: Salem Village and—**_

**Bam!**

**Crash!**

**Bang! **

**Flop!**

"OW!"

Ron cringed as the loud sound of his father undoubtly crashing and burning interrupted his studying. He sighed, running a hand through his fiery red hair and rubbing his temple, trying to get rid of the headache that was starting to form in his unfortunate noggin as he listened to his Dad swear in pain.

"You all right Dad?" he called into the other room, where his father must have just come in from the Ministry.

"Wha—" his Dad's voice called back, followed by another series of crashes. "OW! Ah, I'm fine son, don't worry 'bout it. Just bit off a little more than I can chew. Brought a lot of interesting stuff back from the Ministry."

Ron cringed slightly at the word 'interesting'. Generally, anything his father found interesting, ordinary wizards found 'odd', 'boring' or plain 'abnormal'. He didn't think he really _wanted _to know what the stuff was, but then again, he wanted to do his summer homework for Ancient Studies even less.

He looked at his Ancient Studies book for a long moment, trying to keep his eyes focused but failing as the words blurred together and ran off the page.

Deciding that studying was pointless right now, he put down his quill.

With a sigh, he slowly got up from his chair at the Burrow's kitchen table, stretching his long limbs with a groan. Then he cautiously made his way into the family room, poking his head around the corner warily.

As expected, his father was in the middle of the room, surrounded by—Ron didn't even _know _what he Dad was surrounded by. All he knew at a glance was that they were all Muggle objects, and really, that's all he needed to know.

Slowly, he made his way into the room, stopping at the edge of the pile of Muggle junk. He bent down and picked up a random object-a red stick with weird bristles on the end-and stared at it for a moment, before looking up at his father. "Um, Dad?" he asked.

"Wha?" his Dad said off-handily, fumbling with some other thing Ron had never seen before. He looked up for a moment and gave Ron a half smile before looking back at the thing. "Oh, hello Ronald, didn't hear you come in."

Ron rolled his eyes and threw the Muggle stick-bristly thing or whatever it was back into the pile of junk. "Dad, where did you get all this stuff?" he asked.

"Oh, this stuff?" he Dad said nonchalantly, gesturing at the Muggle pileup. "Oh, this is nothing much. Just some stuff I picked up from the office. Been building up for a while. When we inspect stuff that we suspect might be charmed or cursed or whatnot, sometimes the object turns out to be not tampered with at all, and those objects generally somehow end up in my office. Can't say I complain, they are quite fascinating, but after a while it was cluttering up my work area so I decided to bring it all home."

Ron had to hold back a snort at 'cluttering up my work area'-he'd seen his Dad's work area and 'cluttered' was an understatement, even without the Muggle stuff—but he decided it was best not to mention that.

There was definitely something he _should _mention though. Something he thought his father _might _have overlooked.

"Um Dad?" he said again, trying to get his father's full attention. "Uh, don't you think Mum is going to be a little…unhappy with all this?"

"Molly?" Mr. Weasley said, head snapping up suddenly at the mention of his wife. "Isn't she down at Diagon Alley? Fred told me she wouldn't be back for hours."

Ron held back a laugh. "Um, no, Mum's only out back working in the garden," he said, grinning. "She hasn't left the house once all day…"

Mr. Weasley visibly paled. "Oh no…" he whispered. "Fred lied to me! He said she was gone!"

"Dad," Ron said slowly. "You should know by now that you can't trust anything Fred _or _George tell you."

"Unicorn turds!" Mr. Weasley swore, rushing to the kitchen window and peering out. Sure enough, Mrs. Weasley was out there, getting rid of the pesky gnomes that kept coming back.

He ducked as she looked back at the house, before tip-toeing his way back to his Muggle mess. "You got to help me!" he whispered. "Molly can't see _any _of this, or…or…I don't even know what'll happen, but it won't be good!"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You want me to _help _you?" he said, rather loudly.

"Shhh, shhh, not so loud!" Mr. Weasley shushed him, glancing at the door. "She has the hearing of a Phoenix! Please, will you help me?"

Ron crossed his arms, looking at his father skeptically. "What's in it for me?" he asked slowly.

His father stared at him for a long moment, mouth flapping uselessly, like a fish out of water. Then he frowned, straightening and crossing his arms as well. "I do not have to give you anything!" he said sternly. "I am your father and I'm _telling _you to help me!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "All right, your funeral," he said, turning on his heel and yelling "MUM!" at the top of his lungs.

"NOOO!" Mr. Weasley shrieked, lunging at his youngest son and covering his mouth. "All right all right!" he hissed, giving in to his son's demands. "I'll…I'll bring you something home from work!"

"Not good enough," Ron mumbled through his father's hand.

"Dragon bogies," his Dad murmured. "I'll…uh…I'll get you a Chudley Cannons bedspread!"

Ron's eyes widened. "Really?" he said. "For real?"

"Yes, yes!" his father hissed. "Just _don't _tell her!"

"Deal," Ron said. "Now let go of me."

"You promise?" Mr. Weasley pressured. "No bedspread if she finds out. Capesh?"

"Yes, now let go off me!"

Slowly, Mr. Weasley released his son. He took a big breath. "Okay, we need to sort these into bags so we can transport them to my work shed inconspicuously and—"

"Arthur?"

Both Ron and Mr. Weasley froze. "Leprechaun taint!" Mr. Weasley swore. "Molly! Quick, distract her! Get her to go back to the garden! I'm not here!"

Ron nodded and quickly ran to the kitchen door; where Mrs. Weasley was just about enter the house. "Hello Ron," she said, leaning against the door frame and wiping her forehead with a dirty garden glove. "I thought I heard yelling. Did Fred and George do something? Is your father home?"

Ron shrugged, carefully blocking the doorway and his mother's view of the family room. "Fred and George haven't been up to anything that I know of," he said. "I've been here the whole time and I didn't hear any yelling. And no, Dad's not home yet."

Mrs. Weasley hesitated for a moment. "I could have sworn I heard yelling…" she said slowly.

"Maybe you're just tired," Ron suggested. "Would you like me to get you a drink or something?"

Mrs. Weasley looked surprised at his kindness. This was unlike Ron. "That's very kind of you," she said. "But no, I've already got one."

Ron smiled brightly. "Okay," he said.

Mrs. Weasley frowned, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Is everything all right Ron?" she asked him slowly. "Is there anything I should know about?"

Ron shook his head. "Nope," he said. "Just doing my homework."

"All right…" his Mum said, though she still looked suspicious. "I'm going back to my gardening. Holler if you need me, okay?"

"Sure Mum," Ron said, smiling at her a she turned to walk back to the garden. The moment her back was turned though he dropped the smile and hurriedly closed the door, before quickly making his way back to the family room.

His father was hiding behind the sofa. He poked his head out a little as Ron entered; eyes wide behind his crooked spectacles. "Is she gone?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Ron said. "She went back to her gardening."

Mr. Weasley let out a sigh of relief, coming out from behind the couch. "Thank goodness. That would have ended very badly," he said, digging his hand into his robe pocket and pulling out his wand. "All right, let's get to work. Let's sort the objects by color, and put them in…ah…" He frowned, looking around, before smiling and pointing his wand at a vase of flowers. Muttering a charm, he transfigured the flowers into multiple expandable bags. He grabbed them hurriedly, changed each one to a different color of the rainbow, and quickly spread them out.

"You start with that side," he said, pointing at the section of Muggle objects by Ron, "and I'll start over here. Hurry please! She could come in at any moment!"

Ron nodded and got to work, picking up Muggle objects with a quick glance at their color before stuffing it into the appropriately colored bag. He paused after sorting a good three or four objects, holding some sort of squishy sphere with a large red star on it. "Hey Dad?" he asked. "Why are we sorting things by color and not just stuffing them randomly into bags?"

Mr. Weasley looked at him skeptically as he stuffed a large white object with buttons and numbers on it into the white bag. "Well, I don't want to just dump it in the shed," he said, frowning. "I like it to be somewhat organized."

Ron just stared at him. "Dad, you're _never _organized."

Mr. Weasley swallowed. "All right all right," he said. "Last time I stuffed all my stuff in the shed it all fell out when I opened it and Molly busted me. She got really angry and banished all my work in there and I don't want that to happen again, okay?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "All right Dad," he said.

The two of them went back to sorting in silence.

**Squeak.**

Ron jumped at the sudden noise, looking around. "What was that?"

"Hmm, what?" Mr. Weasley said, looking up.

Ron frowned, knitting his eyebrows. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"I don't know," Ron said slowly. "Something…squeaked."

Mr. Weasley stared at him for a moment, before going back to sorting. "You must be hearing things," he said.

Ron disagreed, but he didn't argue. He went back to sorting.

**Squeak. **

"There it is again!" Ron exclaimed.

"There is _what _again?" his father asked.

"That squeaking noise!" Ron said, annoyed.

"I don't know what you're talking about Ron," Mr. Weasley said, but Ron saw it this time. He was blushing.

"Daaaad," Ron said slowly. "What are you hiding?"

"Hmm?" his Dad said, trying to cover up his embarrassment. "Hiding? I'm not hiding anything."

"Yes you are," Ron said. "You're cupping something in your hands. What is it?"

"I—uh—well—" his father stuttered before sighing, closing his eyes and holding up what he had been hiding guiltly.

It was a duck. A bright yellow duck made out of some sort of Muggle material.

Ron stared at it in disbelief for a long moment.

"A _duck_?" he said, aghast.

"It's not just _any _duck!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, opening his eyes. His expression changed from one of guilt to pure joy and fascination. "It's a_ rubber _duck! _Rubber _is the Muggle material that it's made of. And it has a Quaker inside of it. See?" He squeezed it and the little bird made a loud squeaking noise. "A Quaker!" he laughed. "It has a Quaker in it because it quakes! Get it?"

` Ron just stared at him. "Dad," he said. "You're weird. You know that?"

"Yes, yes, that's great son," he Dad said, waving him off. "But a _Quaker!_" he squeezed it multiple times, causing the duck to squeak obnoxiously. "It's _genius! _A Quaker!"

"You keep using that word," Ron said. "I do not think it means what you think it means."

"Oh, pssh," Mr. Weasley said. "You don't know what you're talking about. Trust me. It's a Rubber Duck with a Quaker inside that makes it queak. It's a brilliant invention."

"Whatever you say Dad," Ron said, shaking his head.

He would never, ever understand his father.

~O~

Over the next half hour, the two of them—somehow—managed to finish sorting the entire pile of Muggle junk in record time. And not a moment too soon—Mr. Weasley had just charmed all the bags to fly themselves over to the shed for him when Mrs. Weasley walked into the house, done with her gardening.

"Oh, hello Arthur," she said as she spotted her husband, who was sitting at the kitchen table with Ron, who had his Ancient Studies book out in front of him. "I didn't realize you were home yet. When did you get back?"

"Oh, just a little while ago," Mr. Weasley said, shrugging and smiling broadly. "I saw Ronald here was doing his Ancient Studies and thought I'd help him out a bit."

"Oh, well that was kind of you!" Molly exclaimed, smiling. "Here, let me help too. I need a break from my work anyhow."

She moved to sit next to her husband.

**"NO! DON'T SIT THERE!"** Ron and Mr. Weasley yelled in unison.

**SQUEAKKKKKKKKK!**

** "ARRRTHURRRR!"**

**Fin**


End file.
